Wide Awake Café
by presumabl.y
Summary: New-to-New-York Alexander Hamilton has landed his first job in the land of the free as George Washington's newest barista at the hole-in-the-wall, cozy Wide Awake Café. Making new friends and finding a good apartment to board in are just some of his issues immigrating into a new country when details of the past he left behind on Nevis come to haunt him... (...Cover art NOT mine...)


_**Wide Awake Cafe**_

 **Chapter 1:Beans**

 **John**

 _Can I save a beat in time?_

 _Can I save a record rhyme?_

 _Can I bounce within three lairs:_

 _of coldness, sorrow, despair?_

 _Fuck, what the fuck am I saying. I need help._

Jonathan Laurens scoffed at the journal that used to bring him so many beautiful pennies of thought.

Now all it gave him was petty garbage, like the shit he'd just scribbled down on his last page.

He stared bitterly at it before he picked up his coffee and took another large gulp of the burning, black tar; it scraped against his throat and burrowed itself like a bullet down into his stomach. He ignored the taste. He ignored the burn.

All he needed was a good fucking piece of script and he could go on his merry way out of the godforsaken town that sold him the piece-of-trash journal and "gifted" his piece-of-trash brain. His mind was plagued. He stood again and approached the counter to get another coffee, black and burning hot- just like before. Like always, when he would seek the wholesome refuge of his local coffee shop for his downtime- more like his most troubled time, as it was the time he would be writing. He just couldn't write anymore.

He couldn't understand it, either. Just months before he'd gotten a promotion and spotlight in his workplace and at his class and now- now he couldn't even write a spare stanza of a poem.

A sigh passed between the ruby red lips of the barista. "Whaddya want now?"

John grinned. "Cup of coffee, Miss."

She grinned, a dimple showing cheekiness to contrast with her exhaustion of her work shift. The shop only held a handful of people now, but contrarily just a few hours before had told of a large rush of patrons. Her face looked as if it shone, but it wasn't of a good; the shiny skin just gave clue to a sweaty workday. "You've had a good four stands just today, J. Laur," she cocked her head to one side, studying the boy.

He grinned sheepishly. "Long day. Lot of work to do still." She laughed. "You've been here for just about the whole day! My lands, boy- it's just about midnight!"

John shrugged, the large coat he wore swallowing him in its heat. "The night never bothers me."

She shook her head. "Take a break if you know what good for ya, boy."

"Why must you repeatedly call me 'Boy'?" John whined to the barista, his stance sharply dropping as he hunched his back in embarrassment.

"'Cause, you're one of the crazy regulars who never leaves until he's drained the tanks dry of hot java. It's a given right, if you want to keep coming in here and stealing all the brew we've got, boy." John guffawed. "Alright." he tossed the subject aside; he needed his coffee. "One large black, please and thank you, Theo... Theodosia, dear," he ordered, finally taking the time to figure out what her nametag actually read.

She hummed. "A bit slow, but better than others," she sang. "It'll be up in a minute, Johnny."

"Laurens!" he corrected, raising a finger to her. She shrugged halfheartedly.

He turned to go back to his booth just as the door to the owner's office opened. The local celebrity George Washington walked out with his arm around the shoulders of a much shorter boy with longer, dark brown hair and a stubbly chin and jaw. George was laughing at something the boy had supposedly said before the left the office, his broad shoulders shaking heavily as the boy shrank in on himself little by little, a bashful blush overtaking his face. "You're gonna do good in here, Alex," George patted him on the back, his whole body rocking forward and backward with the force. He let out a shaky laugh.

"Oh, well, Sir- I'm happy to be here," Alex said, his eyebrows upturning in a hopeful expression. He looked so nervous that he would combust on the spot. John's face went slack, heat blooming beneath his skin.

The sound of a coffee machine coming to life roared and was accompanied by a pick up of conversation by Theodosia. "Mr. Washington, is this the new worker you were talking about?" she asked. George Washington glanced up at his other employee, beaming still from his exchange with Alex. "Yes, Provost. Hamilton, introduce yourself," he patted Alex on the back, making the boy's body hunch forward and a cough launched from his throat.

"Oh- um, of course! My name is Alexander Hamilton, I'm new to New York, just traveled from the Caribbean to live here on my own," Alex said. John wondered if he had just come to study abroad, as the college campus was just a minute or so away from the coffee shop. "Well that seems exciting," Theodosia smiled at Hamilton, cocking her head and earning a blush from him. John tried to cover a wince with a grin when Alex's eyes finally fell on him.

"Hi," he said simply.

"Hello," John said back, somewhat mortified of his awkward, too-formal response afterwards. He could practically feel Theo snickering from her spot behind the counter. He would need to confront her about that later, he supposed. For now, he couldn't seem to miss a beat of Alexander standing just several feet in front of his eyes.

"What brings you here again, Laurens?" George Washington asked. John blushed. His appearance was so much of a usual thing that George had learned his name months ago. The two had formed a rarely seen sort of bond over mutual interests. George now represented a sort of father figure in John's life, after he and his father had a falling out that mostly separated him from his family ties. He and his father had maintained a close relationship before that year.

"You know, the usual," John said, giving a half-hearted grin. "Writing is difficult unless it's done here."

Theo snorted. "You've been clutching your head and muttering curses about your work since you sat down."

John glared at her as George laughed. "I'm afraid writing can be a bit challenging of the mind," he said.

"Ditto," John agreed.

John turned to go back to his seat, but he looked out from the corners of his eyes to watch Washington guiding Alex to the back of the Cafe and introducing him to all the machinery. It must suck having your first shift be the night shift, John thought. George must have trusted Alex if he would bring him in for his first workday at an hour until midnight.

Determined to get back to work, he glanced back down at his paper- only to find the words he'd written made less sense than they had before. John sighed, crumpling up the paper and tossed it to the table. He threw his head into his hands, massaging his temples. All the words running through his head seemed bright, airily dancing across his skull and into the blank sight of the back of his eyelids. Clicks and whirrs sounded in his brain as he moved his mouth to incoherent thoughts.

Anyone who would see him as he was at that moment would have thought he was mentally insane and promptly throw him in a mental asylum. He choked on a laugh that attempted to escape when he thought of it. Him, in an asylum, banging on the soundproof windows and doors and walls of his little cell, screaming to be let out to no one's ears. If his father had what he wanted, then that's where he truly would be. He groaned. There would be no other place in the world for a man like John Laurens.

A seat on the other side of his table was pulled out. George Washington leaned his elbows on the table to speak quietly to Laurens. "Son, pardon me if I'm wrong, but you don't look too good," George furrowed his dark, bushy eyebrows.

John choked on another laugh that bloomed from his chest as he peeked out at George. "I'm fine. Writing is just a bit exhausting right now. I'm in a bit of a rut, and writer's block is hell."

George gave a lighthearted smile. "That's the point of writing; it's to be left for the strongest of minds, Kid. And if that doesn't mean you, then I don't know who else it could be." John grinned, sighing. He lowered his arms to be crossed on the table as support for his chin. "Thanks, man. I needed that. But everything seems like shit in my head right now and none of the words I'm putting are making sense," he said. "I need a bit of genius in my bones for the miracle of writing to come back to me."

"Well, if you ever need me, just know I'm here- wide awake in the Wide Awake Cafe." George told him. John nodded. "Hey," George said. John brought his head up from where he had turned to lie on the table. George raised a hand to his own chest. "I believe in you. You can write like the deity of it, Son. You'll be back on your feet soon." John grunted. "I hope so."

George smiled. "Now that's the spirit. How about you come and talk to the new employee, Alex now? I could see you eyeing him when he walked in," George winked. John's face burned.

"Ah... well, he seemed to catch my attention. He just- looks... interesting," John struggled for words, making his cheeks heat farther. Especially after George grinned wider, smirking at the boy.

"Interesting?" he repeated.

John gulped. "Yep."

"In what way do you mean 'interesting?'"

John forced his fingernails deep into his skin, regretting that he ever opened his mouth. "The unkempt, long hair, the crazed, intelligent eyes, hunger-pang frame," he said. "The fact that he'd want to work here of all places."

George lowered his eyebrows, ruffling John's mass of auburn curls. He laughed choppily and heartily. "Hey now, Laurens, don't get too ahead of yourself-"

"I won't."

"-we know what happened the last time we had someone 'interesting' walk in here," George displayed a broad grin as John seemed to choke on air, remembering the olden days when-

"Martha..." he whispered. His tone was a mix of reverent prayer and abhorrent revulsion.

John seemed frozen for a moment. His past was not something he enjoyed thinking about- it often made him feel out of place and oppressed, like he felt back then when his past was the present. He wondered what would've happened if he had stayed, or continued acting under everyone's careful eye.

"Laurens, your coffee's up!" Theo's call from the counter brought his attention back to where he stood. He cleared his throat, nodding at George before strolling up to the counter. Alex stood with Theo, who seemed to be joking about the frothing machine. The girl was a sort of wonders, John knew. Her thin, dark braids pulled into a neat, folded bun atop her head, chestnut skin glowing with a natural-looking blush painting her cheeks, she beamed at Alex in the only way she could, brightening the dark outside with her stark white teeth and rubied lips. She turned her attention away from Alex and the froth machine for just a moment to look at John. "Large black, fifth one of the night," she said, pushing the steaming cup towards him.

John opened his mouth to thank her when Alex spoke instead. "Fifth cup of the night?" he asked incredulously.

John blushed. "Yeah."

Alex seemed to be without words for a moment. "That's... well, that's insane," he said. John's blush deepened before Alex's face seemed to sober up marginally. "Well, I shouldn't talk; I usually drink four times that."

Theo snorted. "You two seem like a perfect match. Maybe this one's your next mate, John."

John sighed, pressing a palm against his forehead. "What is it with you and Washington today, with all of the blunt suggestiveness?" He picked up his new cup of roast and took a large gulp. He looked to Alexander, who- possibly, he thought, if he wasn't just dreaming or hoping- had a hint of red growing on his ears, accompanying a smile on his lips. "Nice to meet you, Alexander." Alex nodded.

"You too, John." John smiled genuinely.

Theodosia groaned, slapping her palms onto the counter. "Damn, you two," she muttered, making John hide an even wider grin from behind the cup in his hands. "This'll be a bane to my existence soon enough, I suppose." She left through the doors to the back room.

John and Alex laughed.

John sipped his coffee. He cleared his throat, ready for something. "So where are you going, Alex?"

Alex started. "What?"

"What's your plan?"

"Oh- yes," Alex leaned forward and looked to the ceiling. "I'm going to Kings- no, it's not King's college anymore, uh- Columbia University, I mean." Somehow, he got the university mixed with it's founding name- King's College. "I got a full-ride scholarship after they saw some of my writing," he said. "I think I'll go for a history major, and find a job as a Professor there after I've got my schooling." he spoke with a bit of a Nevis accent present, but it wasn't hard to understand Alex at all. It certainly wasn't when, in John's case, you were paying close attention to every word falling from his mouth.

"I'm just so passionate about history... and politics," Alex said. "Libertarian. I want to make our party bigger, so maybe we could be as big as the Democrats. I might just major in Politics or ... entrepreneurial...stuff," he continued.

John didn't say anything for a moment. He nodded his head slowly and took another drink from his coffee. "I'm looking for a career in the Arts, and serve in the Military," he informed. Alex hummed in response. "That seems interesting," Alex said.

"Yeah?" John said. Alex smiled, nodding. John hummed smiling in response to such a beam of light. "I might just go with my backup plan; I've always... it sounds stupid, but I want to save lives. I always have," he said. "Since I was 4, I was envying firefighters and policemen and soldiers. And when I got a little older, around 10, I saw another kind of life-saving in literature and the Arts. Music and painting can save someone, as well as reading can bring a vacation from a shitty reality to them."

Alex looked on with a glassy look to his eyes. "Uh-huh," he said heavily. John wondered might make him like that.


End file.
